This is the part of winter when normal things become too much work. The herbs that initially made it through the transition indoors have now turned brittle from the combination of months of dry heat and insufficient sun. You can’t water them more since a bad bag of soil from the hardware store brought with it a colony of fungus gnats that take advantage of any extra moisture around any available plant. They zip around everywhere, often directly into the cups of soapy water placed in key locations with the hope that they will drown themselves to local extinction.

Sweaters are already played out for the season. Your coat lost a button and, while you managed to rescue it, it’s still sitting on the bureau unsewn, more due to that right pocket of thin, satiny lining fabric that can no longer be trusted with anything; that much time for a needle and thread seems impossible to set aside. Strict budgets allow for no wardrobe refreshing.

Those ambient noises you only notice when the windows are closed start become grating, even if technically far less annoying that screaming children out your window several hours each night. So there is always music or people talking coming from speakers somewhere. Even the upbeat songs manage to sound melancholy, or happy only in a nostalgic, unattainable manner.

Thankfully the days are also noticeably lengthening and after-office life now includes the occasional dusk experience. Every day that the light lasts a little longer, even if there are also new instances of snow and numbingly cold walks to and from subway stops, the refresh of spring beckons.